No special circumstances in their meeting; nothing impressed itself into their memories. Only later, when their two lives began to somehow tie themselves together, when their blurry figures resolved themselves into such a beautiful clear sharpness; chiefly her lucent hazel eyes and the soft, sweet voice with which she loved to speak of things as yet unseen…

Surely it could not be otherwise that, tonight, when Cassiopeia seemed to have cast off her shawl in some ungovernable impulse of ecstasy and the trees were waving to each other like the kindest Christian neighbors; lying next to one another on a night like that, it couldn’t possibly be otherwise that…

No, surely never could it have been otherwise, that, on that blanket cast across the soft sweet grass, on that warm midsummer night, that the two could ever do anything—but it could not be otherwise that all would fall and come to pass as it had always come to pass, with as much certainty and purity as the bounteous illimitable sweep of heaven over them which looked on with all the force of all their numberless dead ancestors, all the ghosts of all the life on Earth that had since passed away and freed the stage and lent their own departed spirits unto doomsday to the overwhelming splendor of the boundless canopy above them—with such certainty, so it was that everything would come to pass and fall such as it must have always come to be.

No, neither could it not be, such was the faith that they had held to one another in their hearts, faith could it not be, never otherwise, faith such had it in their hearts, no, surely never otherwise but in their hearts they couldn’t do but otherwise to whisper to, well, such as it was that time indeed did pass, not surely as much as it was their wont that these were human beings, after all, well, of course it’s hardly worth repeating what they were, but that they were human beings and had a human faith awake within their hearts meant that they could not possibly do otherwise than to… (etc.)